


The Adventure of Vittoria, the Circus Belle (1876)

by Cerdic519



Series: Elementary 221B [8]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Victorian, F/M, M/M, Murder (planned), Pranks and Practical Jokes, Untold Cases of Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-10 23:55:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10450380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerdic519/pseuds/Cerdic519
Summary: Case 5: The second case from Montague Street, in which sawdust proves to be sometimes just sawdust. And beautiful women prove to sometimes leave disaster in their wake.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MyrtilleGriotte](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyrtilleGriotte/gifts), [sleepyvixen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepyvixen/gifts).



At this point in our brief acquaintance, I not unnaturally assumed that Holmes would be undertaking many cases to which I would not be a party. After all, I had essays to write and my work at the practice, and surely he would not want me around all the time. 

I had a temporary change of room-mate in the days immediately after the conclusion to the Vamberry case, as Holmes had to go and spend a long weekend with his family (his hang-dog expression made it quite clear just how much of an ordeal this was for him!). I had thought to have a weekend by myself, only for Sammy to drop by out of the blue. Apparently there were some medical samples that the University had requested from London, so important that they dispatched one of their students to fetch them. We had a good time together, seeing the sights and enjoying talking over where our lives were just then.

I saw him off at King's Cross Station, and on the platform he mentioned that he had arranged for a pie to be delivered to my house. I was through the ticket-barrier before the engine had cleared the platform and home in record time, only to find that the 'pie' in question was a cardboard cut-out.

He was so going to pay for that!

+~+~+

Holmes returned, and predictably found Sammy's joke hilarious. I pouted my displeasure, which only made him laugh even more. It was totally unfair that the ability to do the puppy-dog eyes had to be shared by two people in my life!

Two days after that, I was writing up some notes from the Vamberry case when Mrs. MacAndrew knocked to inform us that we had a visitor. Even though we had only been there for a few months, we both knew this in itself was unusual; our landlady only announced people she deemed ‘important’, though she had a soft spot for Sergeant Henriksen, whose arrival oddly always seemed to coincide with her baking days! I only hoped that he could detect criminals with the same degree of accuracy as he detected her cakes all the way from the station!

Our visitor was a nervous and rather short young fellow in his late thirties, whose calling-card stated that he was a Mr. John Smith. I briefly considered whether this might be an alias, but I must say that he really did not look the type. The only distinctive thing about him was the decidedly unpleasant cologne he was wearing, which was both vinegary and overpowering; I was glad that the window was slightly open that warm autumn day. He had short and somewhat scruffy mousy brown hair, and I naturally assumed that he was a lowly clerk or some such. 

Which showed how good I was at character assessment, as Holmes proceeded to blow that impression clean out of the water.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Smith”, he said politely. “Does your fisheries business bring you here today?”

Our visitor must have seen my surprise, for he hurried to explain.

“I own a large fish processing factory in Lowestoft, Suffolk, and we supply London with several varieties of fish, mostly herring”, he explained. “One of my investors is Sir Charles Holmes, and when I mentioned certain recent, ahem, difficulties I had been experiencing, he recommended his youngest son as the person to help me.”

“Please proceed”, Holmes said, waving him to a chair. “This is my friend and colleague, Doctor Watson.”

Our visitor nodded to me, and took a seat.

“I should begin by explaining that I have a large house in Essex, near Majestic Park, on the edge of London”, he said. “I prefer to allow my factory managers up in Suffolk to do things themselves, and pay only irregular visits to keep an eye on them, though I visit the distribution centre in London rather more often." 

"What has happened – or rather, not yet happened – concerns the circus that was set up in a corner of the park last year. It is not that near my house, yet it has had an impact on my life that I could never have foreseen.”

“The area that the circus moved into had recently been cleared, and this had led to a large influx of foreign workers into the area, many of whom have been Venetians who seemingly preferred British to Italian rule. One of them was a gentleman called Salvatore Vincenzo, who was unable to get work on the site. He applied instead for work at my London factory, which is next to Liverpool Street Station, and his daughter Vittoria also applied. The work is mundane, but it pays a fair wage.”

My eyes narrowed as I noticed the slight hesitation when he mentioned the lady's name. There was definitely something there.

“I must admit, gentlemen, that at the first sight of Vittoria, I fell in love with her”, he continued. “Of course I was her employer, which put me in a difficult position, let alone the twelve-year age gap. Matters were further complicated when her father died in that outbreak of winter flu at the start of the year, which caused Vittoria to look for additional work elsewhere. And that, gentlemen, was where my troubles really began.”

“Although her sweet nature is, I think, her best part, Vittoria is stunningly beautiful. Indeed, when I first declared my interest in her, I would have been far from surprised if she had refused me; with her looks, she could have had any man in London. It was those looks which enabled her to obtain a job at the circus, which was just starting up. Many such places have a Belle, a girl of outstanding beauty, and the Galliano Circus is no exception. I agreed to amend her hours at the factory so she could work evenings and the occasional afternoon at the circus, and all seemed set fair.”

“Unfortunately it was at that moment that my troubles really began, in the form of a Mr. Roderick West. 'On stage' he is Roderigo Occidentale, the Knifeman From Hell, and he made it clear from when he first saw Vittoria that he wished to be considered as a suitor for her affections. She did not return his affections, but he has recently been pressuring the circus manager, a Mr. Pines, to have Vittoria included in his act. The thought of that horrible man throwing knives at my... that dear girl – I cannot allow it!”

“The question is”, Holmes said in his gravelled growl, “does Miss Vincenzo wish to allow it?”

“She does not”, the man said ruefully, “but she needs the job in order to continue to afford her house, and I very much fear that she may feel forced to yield to his request. But I do not trust the man.”

Holmes pressed his long fingers together.

“This is difficult”, he said. “No crime has been committed as of yet, but if your fears of your rival prove justified, then we may be looking at a potential case of murder, and one which could all too easily be made to appear as an accident. Obviously Miss Vincenzo cannot move in with you and leave her house, so we must find a solution quickly. When might we wait on the lady in question?”

“She returns home from the factory at three today”, our guest said, “and I know that she would have to leave to be at the circus for the six o'clock evening performance. You would catch her any time between three-thirty and five-fifteen.”

“Excellent!” Holmes smiled. “If you leave her address with us, we shall visit her between those hours, and then try to formulate a plan of action.”

I was somewhat surprised that my friend so casually assumed that I would be going with him, though I said nothing. Obviously, however, I must have shown some emotion, for once our visitor was gone, he spoke.

“I am sorry if I assumed a little too readily”, he said, looking abashed. “I do however find your presence grounding, and would welcome it if you could come.”

He looked at me so pleadingly that I knew, despite the semi-compliment, I was going to go with him. I sighed in a put-upon manner, and he gave me one of those smiles where his eyes crinkled at the edges. He looked nice when he smiled.

+~+~+

Miss Vittoria Vincenzo lived at Number 30A, FitzAllan Gardens. Rather oddly, it turned out to be a single and fairly modern house standing athwart the road which was terminated by the railway behind it, a single goods line running into Liverpool Street Station. I could not help but notice that the numbers were a little strange; houses one to thirty (no number thirteen) ran down one side, then Miss Vincenzo's house, and then sixty-three to ninety-one back down the other side. Our target property was not small, and I did not wonder at the lady having to hold down two jobs to keep it up, although I presumed that she rented out unused rooms like everyone else.

The lady in question had obviously been apprised as to our coming, and welcomed us with coffee (I noted how Holmes' eyes lit up at that) and cakes. She was indeed beautiful, of the sort that make-up would more likely mar rather than make. I wondered how my friend would set about his inquiries, and his first question surprised me.

“Have you received an offer for this house, Miss Vincenzo?”

She looked as surprised as I felt, but rallied quickly.

“Yes”, she said, her voice somewhat melodic in tone. “How did you know?”

“I did not”, he said. “But one of the things that I noticed when we arrived is that the area directly behind the railway line is being re-developed, and I surmised that this would make an easy access road from the City whilst avoiding the station. Furthermore, the unusual numbering suggests that the road once continued further and has been curtailed by the railway. Developers are more likely to be granted permission to re-instate an old road rather than build a new one to serve any development; your house is the only obstacle to such aplan.”

She nodded.

“It has made for some bad feeling along the road”, she admitted. “Many of my fellow Venetians live here, and they assumed that it was going to remain a quiet little street. The thought of it becoming a busy thoroughfare worries them, what with their children playing in the street. The road has always been a – how do you say, cul-de-sac? – but as you say did once continue further, hence the missing numbers. When they built the railway, developer built this new house for himself.”

“Who made you the offer?” Holmes asked.

“Pettigrew, Barker and Woods, the developers of the site you saw”, she said. “They offered me more than the house is worth – Mr. Smith kindly had it valued for me – but he advised me to refuse their offer, saying that it was far short of what I should get. I did not understand such things, but since he knows business, I decided to follow his advice.”

“One presumes that he believed the developers would pay more because they would be gaining the access across the railway line”, Holmes said (I myself had noticed a small and somewhat questionable foot-bridge across the railway). “We must look into that further. Mr. Smith also tells us that he has some concerns about a co-worker of yours at the circus, a Mr. Roderick West?”

She shuddered.

“I think that he means well”, she said, “but he is such a brute at times. Mr. Smith is sure that he is behind the idea for me to be included in his act, which I would not like at all. But I cannot afford to lose my job there, so I may have to. I have two lodgers here, and I still struggle.”

Holmes looked at her consideringly.

“Miss Vincenzo”, he said eventually, “you mentioned that there are several other Venetians living in this particular road. Do you happen to know if your father sought to buy this house in particular, or if he was just looking for somewhere in this area?”

“That I do know”, she said. “He hoped to buy number Twenty-Three a little further down the road, but he told me that it was sold to someone else, one of those people who, I believe the phrase is, sub-let to other people. Not my fellow Venetians, I know; a family from the North of England live there just now, some very nice people. However, the then-owner of this house heard that he was looking for property, and offered to sell to him. My dear papa had some money put by, and we were fortunate that the seller was prepared to accept a little below its full value, as he wanted to move quickly to travel abroad. He had received a large inheritance, he said, but it was being contested.”

“I see”, Holmes said, and I just knew he was on to something. “May I ask why your father purchased the house outright, rather than just renting?” 

“He wished to settle in England permanently”, she explained. “His own father was moderately rich, and although that estate was divided between three sons, my father had just enough to be able to afford this house. As I am sure you know, the incorporation of Venice into the Kingdom of Italy was not welcomed in much of La Serenissima, and many of us left for other countries.”

“Quite”, Holmes smiled. “You are quite clearly a lady of sense, Miss Vincenzo, so I am going to be honest with you. Your life is in danger unless you do exactly as I say.”

I felt that he was being a little too direct here. The poor lady looked terrified.

“Why?” she gasped.

“You must trust me”, Holmes said firmly. “In a moment I am going to run through a list of instructions, and if you follow them to the letter, all will be well. To the letter, Miss Vincenzo. Failure to do so may well result in your untimely demise, and we do not wish that, do we?”

“No”, she managed.

“Excellent!” Holmes smiled. “Now this is what you must do……”

+~+~+

Next, we paid a call to the offices of Pettigrew, Barker and Woods, which was only a few streets away. It turned out to be a small sub-office of the company and the only manager who worked there was away dealing with a client, which meant that Holmes had to ask his questions of the secretary, Miss Grissom. Sixty if she was a day, her hair tied up in a bun and wearing a severe black dress, she looked as if she had forgotten what a smile was.

I could not believe it. She actually simpered at Holmes, and she was almost old enough to be his grandmother! He asked her several questions, then thanked her for her time before returning outside with me.

“They are indeed the developers for Laxton Fields”, he said. “And she had one particularly interesting piece of information. Mr. Woods, her manager, scheduled an unexpected meeting with someone when she was away from the office the day before. A Mr. Roderick West. She only found out when she was typing up his notes from it; she had been sent out on an errand during the visit, which had annoyed her greatly.”

“Did she say what the meeting was about?” I asked.

“Her manager retrieved the papers concerning the development behind Miss Vincenzo's home”, he said.

“I am surprised that she was prepared to tell you as much”, I said, a trifle sourly. I still could not believe how he had charmed that Medusa. He grinned at me.

“I am full of surprises!” he said.

+~+~+

Once we were back in Montague Street, I asked if he thought the case was actually solvable.

“Oh, I solved it before we left FitzAllan Gardens”, he said airily. “However, I rather liked dear Miss Grissom, so I thought it only fair to warn her that she might very soon be out of employment.”

“Why?” I asked, confused.

“Because there is every likelihood that the criminal investigation into her employers may force them to close down”, he said, “so I advised her that seeking alternative employment might be in her best interests.”

“But how are they involved?” I asked.

He was saved by answering by the announcement of a visitor, obviously an important one as Mrs. MacAndrew herself had come up. It turned out to be none other than Miss Vincenzo. Holmes kissed her hand and led her to a chair.

“I should say now that the danger I feared is all but passed”, he smiled. “But I am expecting another visitor as well, and it would be best if we waited for him.”

“Who is that?” she inquired.

“Mr. Roderick West”, he said. She paled.

“Is that necessary?” she asked, a little sharply.

“It is if you wish to know the whole truth”, Holmes said crisply. “It is not a happy tale, but it looks to end about as well as could have been hoped.”

She looked at him dubiously, but did not make to leave. The maid brought coffee, tea and cakes, and fifteen minutes later she led up Mr. West. Out of his outrageous pirate-style uniform that I had seen in the poster for the circus (I wondered if he truly hated having to wear such a get-up), he looked an utterly normal Victorian gentleman, but I reminded myself that this was someone who could knife a victim at a great distance. Not for the last time, I was glad that I had a loaded gun in my pocket.

“Miss Vincenzo”, Holmes began, “I must start this tale with your father as he was the man who, albeit unwittingly, placed you in your recent peril.”

“My father?” she asked, clearly puzzled. “How?”

“My inquiries at the estate agents confirmed what I had suspected”, Holmes went on. “Your father was not outbid on Number Twenty-Three, as he told you. Whilst at the estate agents, he saw plans which showed that your current house would most likely have to be knocked down for an access road to the new estate to be built beyond the railway line. He immediately knew that the owner of that house could make a huge profit once the development became public knowledge, which is why he was prepared to offer more than the value of the house to its current owner. More, not less as he told you.”

“His plan, of course, was that he would be the one making a profit. As it happened, his departure from this earthly realm left you in possession of the house. Now, as I said, only the estate agents and the developers knew of the plans to build in the area at this time. However, those plans also became known to a second man.”

Holmes turned to look hard at Mr. West.

“I don't know what you're talking about”, he said defensively.

“The estate agents were recently visited by a certain 'Mr. West', and the appointment was _not_ logged in the schedule, as is common practice”, Holmes said. “It is, regrettably, the law of this country that a married woman's property immediately becomes that of their new husband. So the man who married Miss Vincenzo would come into possession of a most handsome property, ripe for selling.”

“I've never been to no estate agents!” he asserted boldly. 

Holmes stared at him for a moment before turning back to Miss Vincenzo.

“I am very much afraid, Miss Vincenzo, that had you married in the near future, that marriage would have been curtailed by your untimely death in an unfortunate 'accident'.”

She visibly edged away from the other man.

“You wished me to become part of your act”, she whispered. “Heavens!”

“I still don't know what you're talking about”, Mr. West blustered, but I could see the fear in his eyes. Holmes eyed him thoughtfully.

“The secretary there, a Miss Grissom, is a highly observant lady”, he said. “I for one am glad that she exhibits no criminal tendencies, for I fear that she would prove a most formidable opponent. For example, she noted two things about the visitor that she had been sent out to avoid seeing. The first was a small quantity of sawdust, which she assumed came off his boots.”

Mr. West instinctively pulled his boots back a little, and I thought 'circus ring'.

“Sawdust can come from anywhere”, he said, but he looked increasingly worried.

“Actually that is not true”, Holmes said. “It was fortunate for you that Miss Grissom is exceptionally tidy-minded. She took a dustpan and brush, and cleaned the mess away before the cleaner arrived, depositing the dust in her own waste-paper basket which she empties herself when it is full, checking the contents to make sure that nothing important has been thrown away in error. I was therefore able to take a sample, which I have since tested. And what do you think I found, Mr. West?”

My friend looked like a cat waiting to strike at a cornered mouse. Mr. West shook slightly.

“I found that the sawdust in the room was not the same as the sawdust used in the circus ring”, Holmes said.

“What?” I asked. Both our guests were similarly astonished.

“It was planted there by the estate agent's visitor, to give the impression that Mr. West had been there”, Holmes said. “It is in fact from an extremely cheap piece of wood, which I would surmise was sawn for this very purpose.”

“But who was it, then?” I queried. “We have only just started investigating the case.”

Too late I realized that I had said 'we' instead of 'you'. The slight quirk of an eyebrow told me that that slip had not gone unnoticed, but fortunately he did not comment on it.

“This is how the crime was committed”, he said. “Our criminal – not Mr. West – learns of the value of Miss Vincenzo's house, and sets out to woo her.”

“But the only person I am seeing now is Mr. Smith”, she objected.

I winced. She was going to put two and two together.... yes, from the agonized look on her face, she just had.

“No!” she gasped.

“All marches well, until Mr. Smith makes a mistake”, he said. “I do not doubt that poor Mr. West here was to be set up as the man behind the future Mrs. Smith's untimely demise, but in establishing the scenario, Mr. Smith mentions his concerns to his business partner, who replies that his youngest son is a consulting detective. Mr. Smith is at first worried, but sees a chance to pull the wool over everyone's eyes. He arranges a private meeting with the estate agents as 'Mr. West', and leaves the sawdust in the room for Miss Grissom to find, thus incriminating his rival.”

“But Mr. Smith's cologne”, I objected. “It was.... well, strong. Would Miss Grissom not have noticed it?”

“Ah”, Holmes said, “there we come to the matter of Mr. Smith's accomplice. He and Mr. West are of some difference in their physicality, so the visit had to be carried out by someone else, someone who could more closely masquerade as Mr. West. He therefore sought around the circus to find someone who shared his dislike of his target. I would strongly suspect that that person was Giordo, the clown.”

“How can you know that?” I asked.

“Because the other thing that the eagle-eyed Miss Grissom spotted puzzled her considerably”, Holmes said. “She told me that whilst she had not detected any perfume in the office upon her return, she noticed what she thought to be a small rouge marking on the arm of the client's chair in her superior's office. What struck her as odd was the shade, which she described as 'dark burgundy'. Not a common colour amongst ladies – and of the four clowns at the circus, only Giordo used that colour.

The lady finally found her voice.

“And you think..... you think that Mr. Smith... he may have killed me?” she asked in a small voice.

Holmes looked at her, his face unsmiling.

“My dear lady”, he said gravely, “I am certain of it.”

“He should hang for this!” Mr. West growled.

“That is the problem”, Holmes said. “Of evidence, we have very little. If we put this in front of a court, it would most likely be rejected. However, I have told my father that Mr. Smith is not to be trusted, and I dare say that my soon to be ex-client will find his business affairs a trifle more difficult in the coming weeks.”

+~+~+

Holmes was right. Sir Charles pulled his money out of Mr. Smith's business that same day, and he sold it on less than a year later. I was not surprised to read, a further twelve months after that, that the body of a failed businessman had been hauled out of the Thames, having been stabbed in the back. It was a fitting end, considering his character.

Miss Vincenzo and Mr. West decided to settle elsewhere in London, and sold her house at a handsome profit. They married beforehand, but Mr. West insisted on his new wife keeping all the proceeds from the sale for herself, in a separate bank account.

Holmes, God bless him, purchased a clown mask from the circus and having placed it in a spring-loaded box, arranged for it to be shipped up to Edinburgh as a surprise for Sammy. A week later, I received a simple telegram with the word 'Jerk' on it. I laughed and laughed.

+~+~+

In our next case, Holmes' client is one of London's top criminals, and blood turns out to be thicker than water.....


End file.
